


warmth is always a touch

by NotPersephone



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Bedannibal in Florence, Bedelia is stubborn, F/M, Hannibal wants to help, Massage, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-30
Updated: 2017-06-30
Packaged: 2018-11-21 06:36:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11351895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotPersephone/pseuds/NotPersephone
Summary: Bedelia suffers from muscle pain. Hannibal wants to help, if only she would let him.





	warmth is always a touch

It has not escaped his attention. The tiniest flash of pain in her eyes as she turned her head to put the earring on.

“Are you all right Bedelia?” the question follows right away.

“Yes, I am fine Hannibal,” she finishes applying her lipstick and meets his eyes; they remain on her, appraising the truth of her statement.

“It is just a muscle spasm,” she ends the silent enquiry, “nothing for you to be concerned about.”

She dozed off in the armchair while reading a book and woke up to a pain in her neck.

“Allow me to examine it,” he takes a step in her direction.

“That is not necessary. And we will be late if we don’t leave now,” nothing like appealing to Hannibal’s sense of politeness to stop him in his tracks.

The evening is not a pleasant one for Bedelia, she is _painfully_ aware of every passing minute. As she politely engages in conversation with the other guests, she is more concerned with avoiding sudden movements than maintaining their cover. Hannibal spends the evening protectively by her side, taking note of any signs of discomfort. She makes sure none show. The alcohol does nothing to dull her pain and she looks forward to the end of this night and a hot bath to wash the ache away.

The moment they enter the apartment, Bedelia disappears in the bathroom, too exhausted from holding back the pain to engage in further questioning. The sound of running water conceals her gasps as she lowers herself into the bathtub. Yet even a near scalding liquid and bath oils are not able to loosen the tight knots laying too deep within her muscles.

She finally emerges from the bathroom, the aroma of patchouli surrounding her, and reluctantly reaches for the bedroom door. She knows Hannibal will be waiting for her; she wishes there was another room she could retire for tonight, until her pain subsides. Until she feels less vulnerable.

Hannibal sits on the bed, wide awake, as predicted. She says nothing and goes to her vanity to apply moisturiser, sensing his eyes following her every gesture.

“You are still in pain,” it is not a question. Bedelia holds his gaze reflected in the mirror, but does not comment as she puts cream on her hands. Finally, she slips the robe off her shoulders, resigned to join him.

“I am feeling all right Hannibal,” she says, sitting on her side of a bed.

Hannibal makes a tutting sound, suspended somewhere between irritation and disbelief.

“A massage could help undo the muscle knot,” he moves towards her, arm extended.

Bedelia tenses in anticipation of the touch, but nothing happens. His hand remains hovering above her shoulder. She knows this is nonsensical, he has touched her countless times before, yet this is different. This kind of touch implies care and familiarity and she has never sought it. She has never allowed it.

“I don’t want you to hurt, Bedelia,” he speaks gently, his voice soothing as though afraid she would flee at a loud sound, “Would you allow me to help you?”

Her muscles spasm once more at the sudden tension and the pain increases, clouding her reason. She feels the heat radiating from his hand, it holds a promise of a relief.

“Yes,” she concedes.

Hannibal moves closer, his hands gently lift her hair and sweep it off to a side. His fingers pull the straps of her gown off her shoulders. He places his broad palm against the base of her neck, warm and gentle pressure, until she releases a breath she did not realise she was holding. Only then his thumb digs into her muscles, searching for the pressure point. She sighs deeply when he locates it.

“Deep breaths,” he instructs her as his other hand joins the first, all fingers now working on unravelling the threads of tension in her back. Bedelia begins to relax and closes her eyes, focusing on the sensation. The heat of his hands sears all through to her bones, curious warmth now cursing through her bloodstream. As his hands continue kneading her back, her entire body softens, melting between his fingers like thawing ice. The pain is long gone, but the craving for the heat of his touch remains; she does not want it to end.

When his hands finally stop to rest on her shoulders, another sigh escapes her lips, one of discontent.

“I could purchase some muscle relaxants if you wish,” he offers as his fingers adjust her straps before moving away.

“No, thank you,” her voice is tranquil and her head feels heavy on her shoulders, as though her pliant body was not able to support its weight.

Hannibal’s arm returns to circle her shoulder; she does not object as he brings her closer to his chest and they lay down together. Bedelia feels comfort as she slips into his arms, his warmth enveloping her more tightly now. She presses her face into his neck and the steady beating of his heart lulls her to sleep.

Hannibal kisses her hairline as she sleeps peacefully pressed against him. Her pain vanished. And the cold within her melted away with it.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I will never get tired of Bedelia melting under Hannibal's touch. It has been explored before, but I hope you enjoyed this story.


End file.
